Brian D. Earp

The psychedelic psilocybin has shown promise both as treatment for psychiatric conditions and as a means of improving well-being in healthy individuals. In some jurisdictions (e.g., Oregon, USA), psilocybin use for both purposes is or will soon be allowed and yet, public attitudes toward this shift are understudied. We asked a nationally representative sample of 795 US Americans to evaluate the moral status of psilocybin use in an appropriately licensed setting for either treatment of a psychiatric condition or well-being enhancement. Showing strong bipartisan support, participants rated the individual’s decision as morally positive in both contexts. These results can inform effective policy-making decisions around supervised psilocybin use, given robust public attitudes as elicited in the context of an innovative regulatory model. We did not explore attitudes to psilocybin use in unsupervised or non-licensed community or social settings.

Endosex, in contrast to intersex, refers to innate physical sex characteristics judged to fall within the broad range of what is considered normative or typical for ‘binary’ female or male bodies by the medical field, or to persons with such characteristics1 (p. 437). In this short contribution, we explain the origins and increasing use of this little-known term and discuss its practical and ethical relevance to medicine as well as to scholarship from a range of disciplines concerned with individuals’ sexed embodiment. There is growing awareness in many quarters of the term intersex— used within some discourses to refer to clusters of bodily attributes (as in ‘intersex traits’, also termed differences of sex development or variations of sex characteristics)1 or more broadly to persons (as in ‘intersex persons’) whose bodily attributes differ from the dominant clinical, biological, or legal paradigms that categorise and differentiate female and male bodies. Intersex traits have historically been stigmatised as monstrous, morbid or tragic, justifying surgical and hormonal ‘fixing’.2 Persons born with the attributes named with these terms, even if physically healthy, therefore risk unnecessary pathologisation and medicalisation, prompting interventions, often non-voluntary, into their bodies to make them appear or function in ways that are deemed more typically female or male. In addition, some legal and social systems automatically associate persons with these traits with third categories of sex—neither female nor male—which may or may not align with their sex designation at birth, sex of rearing, personal experience or self-conception (see Coda). Being seen as intersex or being judged to have …

Over the past few years, we and our colleagues have been exploring the ethical implications of what we call “love drugs” and “anti-love drugs.” We use these terms informally to refer to “current, near-future, and more speculative distant-future technologies that would enhance or diminish, respectively, the romantic bond between couples engaged in a relationship”. In a recent “qualified defense” of our work, Andrew Andrew McGee suggests that, if we would only stop using the word “love” so expansively, our ethical proposals might gain more traction. Specifically, he argues that “many of the putative instances of love” that we discuss in our papers “are not in fact...

Socially responsible publishers, such as the BMJ Publishing Group, have demonstrated a commitment to health equity and working towards rectifying the structural racism that exists both in healthcare and in medical publishing. 1 The commitment of academic publishers to collecting information relevant to promoting equity and diversity is important and commendable where it leads to that result. 2 However, collecting sensitive demographic data is not a morally neutral activity. Rather, it carries with it both known and potential risks. Among these are issues around privacy or data misuse, as well as more basic concerns about how, when or why people should be categorised in certain ways and/or prompted to conceive of themselves or their identities in certain terms. 3 If such data are to be collected, therefore, their effectiveness in achieving the stated ends must have a sufficiently compelling evidence base so as to justify the...

Frederick offers a critique of my writing tips aimed at undergraduate students coming to philosophy – and in many cases, essay writing – for the first time Frederick claims that most of my tips are good tips but characterizes two of them as bad tips, as follows: Bad tip 1. Be very careful about making any universal claims. Such a claim can be refuted by just a single counterexample. Do not leave yourself open to such refutation. Make a universal claim only if you are sure that there are no counterexamples. Bad tip 2. Pick a smaller, more narrow thesis and argue for it thoroughly rather than a more ambitious thesis for which you argue less thoroughly.

This issue considers the ethics of a healthcare provider intervening into a patient’s genitalia, whether by means of cutting or surgery or by ‘mere’ touching/examination. Authors argue that the permissibility of such actions in the absence of a relevant medical emergency does not primarily turn on third-party judgments of expected levels of physical harm versus benefit, or on related notions such as extensiveness or invasiveness; rather, it turns on the patient’s own consent. To bolster this argument, attention is drawn to the status of the genitals as ‘intimate’ anatomy—a status that is not fully erased by being in a medical context. In this editorial, we draw on the work of Talia Mae Bettcher on ‘intimate agency’ to explore why unconsented interventions into the genitalia may constitute a distinctive sort of personal violation compared to unconsented contact with various other parts of the human body. In their feature article, Marit van der Pijl and colleagues1 argue it is unethical for healthcare providers to perform unconsented episiotomies on persons in labour. In particular, they suggest that, outside of certain rare emergencies in which, for example, the person giving birth is incapacitated1 and the procedure cannot be delayed until consent becomes possible without introducing a significant risk of serious harm (call these ‘medically necessary’2 procedures), ‘presumed consent’ is the incorrect standard to apply. Instead, they stress that, especially when a proposed intervention involves a person’s genital, sexual or reproductive organs, the need to obtain their explicit consent in advance of proceeding must be honoured. As the authors note, the broader social significance of our genitalia—widely regarded as ‘private’ anatomy—is not erased by being in a medical context (see also 2–4). Boundaries must still be observed. Ethically, this ‘leaves a very small margin for error because invasion of these body parts …

For someone with an outsized influence on a field he helped to create, Dan Callahan was anything but overbearing. Physically compact, thin, and wiry in older age, he spoke at the rapid speed of his mind. Soon after I met him—when I was on the cusp of what would become a year‐long residency at The Hastings Center—I found myself seated in his decidedly quaint living room. Dan told a story that evening, one of many that has stuck in my head. It seemed to encapsulate his moral mindset and, in a way, his broader vision for bioethics. I am sure he has told the story many times to many people, but here it is as I recall it.

We thank the commentators for their thoughtful responses to our article.1 Due to space constraints, we will confine our discussion to just three key issues. The first issue relates to the central ethical conundrum for clinicians working with young people like Phoenix: namely, how to respect, value and defer to a person’s own account of their identity and what is needed for their well-being, while staying open to the possibility that such an account may reflect a work in progress. This conundrum thus relates both to what will be beneficial for that person and what constitutes respecting their autonomy, and clinicians must dwell on these questions when deciding what forms of medical intervention to offer. D’Angelo,2 Lemma3 and Wren4 highlight the importance of considering Phoenix as a ‘whole person in context’ 2 prior to initiating treatment or care. In this way, they advocate for a process of ‘therapeutic exploration’,4 which includes taking sufficient time to explore Phoenix’s personhood with them so as to support them in achieving an ‘authentic self-discovery’.2 We agree with these authors that identity development is a complex, life-long process that is influenced by biological, psychosocial and relational aspects, all of which may contribute to an individual’s desire to pursue gender-affirming interventions. To explore the various factors—both conscious and unconscious—that might be motivating Phoenix’s decision to pursue ongoing puberty suppression, D’Angelo,2 Lemma3 and Wren4 describe a comprehensive psychological approach to working with transgender and gender diverse individuals and propose questions to guide such discussions. Consistent with this approach, we stipulated that Phoenix had undergone regular psychological counselling and that the psychologist had judged that ‘Phoenix’s distress is significant and enduring…not a symptom …

ABSTRACT:Psychedelics, including psilocybin, and other consciousness-altering compounds such as 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine (MDMA), currently are being scientifically investigated for their potential therapeutic uses, with a primary focus on measurable outcomes: for example, alleviation of symptoms or increases in self-reported well-being. Accordingly, much recent discussion about the possible value of these substances has turned on estimates of the magnitude and duration of persisting positive effects in comparison to harms. However, many have described the value of a psychedelic experience with little or no reference to such therapeutic benefits, instead seeming to find the experience valuable in its own right. How can we make sense of such testimony? Could a psychedelic experience be valuable even if there were no persisting beneficial effects? If so, how? Using the concept of psychological richness, combined with insights from the philosophy of aesthetics and the enhancement literature, this essay explores potential sources of value in the acute subjective experience, apart from the value derived from persisting beneficial effects.

If you believe in the existence of an infinitely good, all-knowing, and all-powerful deity (‘God’), how do you explain the reality of evil – including the inexpressible suffering and death of innocents? Wouldn't God be forced to vanquish such suffering due to God's very nature? Alvin Plantinga has argued, convincingly, that if the possibility of ultimate goodness somehow necessarily required that evil be allowed to exist, God, being omnibenevolent, would have to allow it. But as John Hick has noted, the mere logical possibility of such a situation might not be enough to console the doubting theist. We need a positive reason to believe that evil as we know it is compatible with God's existence. So, Hick offers a ‘soul-making’ theodicy – or vindication – of God, suggesting that the human soul cannot fully progress to spiritual maturity (a kind of ultimate good on his account) without grappling with evil. In this short piece I argue that, if we accept Hick's premises about souls and soul-making, we can indeed make sense of evil to some extent. But, I suggest, his account cannot justify the type or amount of evil we see in the world, so his theodicy does not succeed.

If there is a single thread running through this issue of the journal, it may be the complex interplay between the individual and the system of which they are apart, highlighting a need for systems thinking in medical ethics and public health.1 2 Such thinking raises at least three sorts of questions in this context: normative questions about the locus of moral responsibility for change when a system is unjust; practical questions about how to change systems in a way that is morally appropriate without triggering unintended, potentially harmful side-effects; and epistemic questions about how to predict the multidimensional consequences of a proposed change or set of changes to an intricate social system such as healthcare.3 These questions crop up throughout the issue, as I will discuss, but my focus is the target article and linked commentaries on gender bias in the surgical profession. Hutchison conducted in-depth interviews with 46 Australian women surgeons and surgical trainees, taking care to avoid leading questions regarding gender bias or gendered mistreatment. Nevertheless, despite minimal prompting, at least four types of gender-related concerns were described by the surgeons,whether directly or indirectly: 1. structural bias in workplace factors, including insufficient parental leave for women, exclusion from men’s spaces where informal training may occur, and a dearth of senior female role models; 2. epistemic injustices including unfair doubting of women’s surgical competence or knowledge relative to men; 3. stereotyped expectations that women surgeons would or should shoulder the burden of medical carework, for example, by attending to patients’ emotional needs; and 4. objectification, both by colleagues and patients, including sexual innuendo, remarks about clothing, and even outright sexual assault. Each of these concerns is disturbing on its own, and yet they do not operate in isolation. Rather, they interact …